Mansch On Montana: Sobriety the result of a brother's love

Mary Brown and her three children, in Appleton Wis. Mary has battled alcohol and drug addiction since her high school days. She has given up custody of her children twice during her battle for sobriety.
Wm. Glasheen/USA TODAY NETWORK-Wisconsin
Wm. Glasheen/USA TODAY NETWORK-Wisconsin

Jess Field, left, and his late older brother Justin grew up in Valier.(Photo: Courtesy Photo)

Jess Field and his older brother Justin grew up on a farm in northcentral Montana between Valier and Dupuyer, chasing gophers, climbing trees and loving the outdoors.

Justin played football. He wrestled. He had many friends. Upon graduation from Valier High in 2000, he began an electrical apprenticeship and then moved to Bozeman. He very quickly became a master electrician, started his own business and bought a home.

Justin worked hard. And he drank hard.

“He accomplished a lot, but he didn’t think he was doing something that was that great in the world,” Jess says. “He got pretty hopeless — because of the alcohol.”

Jess speaks softly.

“He just never felt like he was good enough, or that he ever achieved anything good in his life,” Jess says.

“The disease got him.”

Justin Field was 34 when he died two years ago of liver disease.

“Acute Alcoholism,” Jess says.

JESS FIELD lives in Petersburg, Alaska, where he works in a pizza shop. He hunts as often as he can.

Life doesn’t change much in Alaska, where the fishing and hunting have always been so prevalent. But for Jess, things are different these days. Because Justin is gone.

“I know exactly where he is, and he’s not hurting anymore,” Jess says. “There really is good in this story somewhere. We just have to find it.”

That’s why Jess was at his alma mater last week. He talked to the Valier student body about his brother’s life and the now two-year-old decision Jess made.

The decision to never ever drink again.

JESS HAD DRINKING problems of his own.

“My brother at one point was very functional, but then it got very dark,” Jess says. “I went through a dark point of my own when I was in college.”

He was buying two half-gallons of Crown Royal each week.

“I was functioning enough to get good grades and make dean’s list and still achieve,” Jess says. “But after I graduated, I noticed what the alcohol was doing to my brother. While I was going up in life, my brother was going down.“

Things reached rock bottom during the holidays two years ago.

When Justin was on his deathbed in the Bozeman hospital, Jess was dying for a drink.

“Those Big Sky IPAs, which I love,” Jess says. “I could get them at the bottom of the hill, five minutes from the Bozeman hospital. And wouldn’t you know it — they were on sale for $5.99. And so, while my brother’s dying, I’m resorting back to drinking and getting six-packs to get me through my days and try to numb it out.”

A few days later Jess was back home in Valier when he got a text from his father.

“He is gone,” it read.

Jess sank to the floor.

“I crawled to my dad’s recliner, where the night before I’d had a couple of beers, and there was a half-empty IPA there,” Jess says. “Part of me said ‘It’s time to start drinking again,’ because I was no stranger to that, drinking in the morning.”

He reached the beer — and it packed a punch.

“It was something like a hippie peace sign from somebody’s left hand,” he says. “And it came through my right eye. I could feel the fingers like enter my skull. So I sat back and said, ‘Did that just happen?’ “

JESS DUMPED the half-empy IPA in the sink.

“I decided I was done,“ he says.

Jess gave the eulogy at his brother’s funeral and told people he was done drinking for a while.

“It turns out it’s for the rest of my life,” he says. “It just made sense to me.”

“I don’t do the religion thing,” Jess says, “although I do have some beliefs on how it works for some people as far as their sobriety. I choose to believe it was Justin — or somebody or something — that pointed me in the right direction.”

JESS SAYS there were other attention-grabbing instances that weekend that remain fresh.

“Some of this stuff, you can’t make it up,” he says. “It doesn’t shock me anymore, so I just go with it.”

An example was a song played at Justin’s memorial, a Dierks Bentley hit called “Riser.” The memorial was Jan. 2, 2016, a day before the funeral.

“I had nothing to do with the planning,” Jess says. “Once my brother was in that urn, I didn’t let it out of my sight. I remember ‘Riser’ was the only song they played at the service.”

The next day on the way to the cemetery near Bynum, Jess took the urn in his brother’s pickup. It’s a big diesel with satellite radio. But Jess decided not to use it, instead turning the AM dial to 1150.

“KSEN,” Jess says. “Because that was what we listened to when we were growing up.”

Jess drove fast on the lonely road to Bynum, because his brother would have enjoyed that. He slowed when reaching the last straightaway near the cemetery, then reached to touch the urn.

“And ‘Riser’ started playing on KSEN,” Jess says.

It was a life-changing moment.

“Alcohol, at that point, just became revolting to me,” Jess says. “I mean, if you spend some time in a hospital time with a loved one who is yellow … And my brother actually was. If that doesn’t change you, then you really have a problem.”

Jess hasn’t touched a drop in more than two years.

“I just decided at that moment, this is it,” he says. “I was going to use my abilities to spread the word about this and hopefully save somebody.”

JESS DOES NOT consider himself better than anyone else.

To the contrary, he regrets much of his past.

“I used to be a bully,” he says. “There were times in my life, and it’s not fun to say or think about, but there were days when I woke up and wanted to make someone cry. Because that was going to make me feel better.”

He pauses.

“That’s really haunted me,” he says.

There were other nightmares.

“Five MIPs, two DUIs, the list goes on and on,” Jess says. “But my parents (Jody and Bonnie Field) never gave up on me. These two parents never gave up on a bad kid.”

Abstaining from alcohol, he says, has been a revelation.

“It’s like freedom,” Jess says.

Freedom from the pain of the past.

Bonnie and Jody Field pose in front of the family farm near Valier along with son Jess, who is holding his dog "Cashman."(Photo: Courtesy Photo)

JESS SAYS HIS THOUGHTS this time of year are of lessons learned, not resolutions.

“My parents didn’t drink around us. I didn’t grow up around a bunch of booze,” he says. “But there is a disease in me. It makes me fearful of having a son or daughter and passing that on to them. That disease is with me, and I’ll have it for the rest of my life.

“But there’s two constants: the disease and the love of my parents. My parents have never given up on me.”

He says he won’t quit on his brother. Which means he’s only just started to tell his story to kids. The hope, he says, is to change lives for the better.

“When people ask me how I’m doing, ‘I say beautiful.’ Because I know I’m not given tomorrow,” Jess says. “There’s so many people looking at that retirement and that whole ‘carrot-on-a-stick’ mentality. And I’d rather be just holding that stick and living for today.”

Jess is a voracious hunter.

“Honestly, my goal in life is to have a life that’s cool enough that people want to read about,” he says.

Jess thinks for a moment.

“I guess there is one more thing that’s really changed,” he says. “My dad has really learned now how to express emotion. Before my brother was in this situation, my dad had only told me he loved me two or three times. Not because he didn’t, but I grew up around a lot of hard men, and we don’t talk about our feelings. But now, it’s different. And that feels good.”

JESS SPOKE TO the Valier students last week. He received a positive reaction.

“The applause I received, I would categorize as overwhelming and motivating,” he says. “Hearing it almost made me cry, so I had to turn away from the audience, look toward the roof, and say thank you to Justin real quick.”

The message was about addiction. And decisions. And of turning a life around.

The students asked about hunting in Alaska, about Justin and about sobriety.

“It felt natural being up there talking about my brother and I look forward to more school talks,” Jess says. “This story will save one life, even if it is only mine.”

Mansch On Montana appears most Mondays in the Tribune. Scott Mansch, who appreciates tips and story ideas, can be contacted at 406-791-1481 or smansch@greatfallstribune.com